The weather was fine at noon.
After lunch, I went for a stroll in the park.
At the entrance of the park, I greeted the security guard.
The security guard is not old.
I recognized him because last spring, my second child almost got lost while playing hide and seek.
We found this security guard to help.
The walkie-talkie was also quick; within a few minutes, he said he hadn't found anything.
So I left and gave him my phone number.
A few minutes later, he called back, still without finding us.
In the end, my second child found us by himself.
I called the security guard back to thank him.
The security guard doesn't take a break during the New Year.
There’s no shift change; he just works his shift.
After crossing a small hill,
we arrived at a large grassy area.
The grass was dry and yellow,
just withered yellow grass that looked pale.
My eldest and second child
formed a triangle
passing two sandbags.
Suddenly, an old man shouted for the little girl to come kick the ball.
We looked around,
and it seemed only my eldest could be considered one.
The old man waved at us again.
My eldest said he couldn't kick a soccer ball.
The old man said he couldn't either; he was just playing around.
Both of my children ran over.
The old man said he had a bit to drink and let them play with the ball,
saying this soccer ball was brought back from Japan.
I played catch with my two children.
The second child couldn't do it.
I said to use the instep for accurate passing.
The old man said no need for guidance,
just let them play.
I understood directly;
interest is the best teacher.
You need interest to succeed.
If you start with a sense of frustration,
how can there be interest?
Although the approach might be wrong,
just like the old man with the sky hook on the basketball court, he was also amazing.
The old man said he was a children's soccer coach,
just back from Japan,
which piqued my interest in chatting.
I asked the old man which sports university he graduated from.
He said he didn't graduate from any university.
I asked how long he stayed in Japan.
He said about four months, he came back before the New Year.
I said it was for the kids in Japan, right?
The old man said yes.
His job as a soccer coach was just to play with the kids.
The old man took out a Japanese musical instrument that could change pitch, resembling a whistle.
The sound it made was similar to a small ceramic bird that makes noise when filled with water from childhood.
I thought this was a training whistle.
The old man said this was to explain that soccer and music are alike;
you can communicate without language.
The old man said playing soccer requires thinking.
I said playing games does too.
The old man said he didn't understand games.
I said competitive games are all about the differences between milliseconds.
The old man said in soccer, a second can turn the game around.
I said yes.
I remembered the moment when Tracy McGrady turned around an 8-point deficit in 35 seconds.
The kids called me to play again,
so I ran over.
Both kids had already taken off their jackets.
The old man loudly said that the kids would probably sleep well tonight since they had sweated.
After about half an hour,
my wife was too cold; she was wearing leather shoes.
Then we said goodbye to the old man.
Just as we were saying goodbye, another child arrived,
bringing his own soccer ball.
The old man took a sip of beer, stood up,
and started playing with that child again.